Our Son
by Brownie94
Summary: Brian, 16, is an orphan he thinks & loves racing. One day, he is caught by the feds and told that he can either infiltrate the Toretto gang or go to jail, wisely Bri picks the former. 16 years ago, Letty had a kid and was told that he died. Or did he?
1. Sixteen Years ago

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

This is just an idea I had that I thought would be cool, whaddya think?

**Our Son**

Chapter 1: Sixteen Years Ago

"_Tears are words the heart can't express." Anonymous_

Letty woke up on her hospital bed in the maternal ward, looking for her newborn baby. She called out, "Excuse me," to a passing nurse, when she noticed that the crib wasn't occupied. "Where's my kid?" asked Letty, she really wanted to see her kid, the person she had carried, cared and provided for for seven months.

"Um…maam, I'm going to go get your doctor, please wait up a second," said the nurse and then presumably went to retrieve the doctor that had operated on her. Letty wondered what her kid looked like, if it was a he or a she, but most of all she wondered how Dom would react to the news that he was a father.

You see, Letty hadn't exactly been able to tell him because he'd been out on a project for six months, with no contact, and she'd found out she was pregnant five months ago, a month _after_ he'd left. She was pulled out of her internal monologue by the arrival of the nurse and a pretty, blonde-haired lady, who she assumed was her doctor, in a pink blouse and brown, Capri-length, gaucho pants.

The lady, proving that Letty was right, said, "Hi, I'm Dr. Bell and I performed you C-section."

"Hi," said Letty, impatiently but not rudely, "Where's my baby?"

Looking truly sorry, the young doctor replied, "I'm sorry to say that your baby's dead," with these words Letty's world performed a three-sixty, her baby was _dead_. She was so lost in her grief that she almost didn't hear Dr. Clock say, "We got him out fine, but he was two months premature. We though he was fine, when we got him out, but he died after his first hour. The doctor, who was new at working in the NICU I think, said that he died and that they already cremated him."

Letty was incensed, they had cremated _her _baby without her permission _before_ she got to see him! Like a hormonal woman, which she probably was, all her anger suddenly turned into sorrow, her baby was dead and he…, "My baby was a boy?"

With a sympathetic expression on her face, Dr. Clock said, "Yeah, he was adorable even though he was all pink. He had beautiful blonde hair…." Here she paused as if just remembering something, "I'll be right back," and with that she headed off to God knows where, and was back before the minute was over, this time carrying a Kodak package in her hand. Handing the package to Letty, Dr. Clock said, "Open it."

She smiled at the surprised gasp Letty gave at the contents, it was pictures of a baby Brian (although Letty didn't know it yet), "These are pictures of Brian we took right after we got him out and it was safe for him. It's hospital policy we always take these pictures incase parents want to buy them, but I never thought it could be this useful."

"Brian?" asked Letty, wondering who had named her son exactly what she had wanted to name him.

"Um…I named him that, I saw it circled on that notebook right there and…and I didn't want him to die without a name. I hope I didn't cross any boundaries." She looked scared, as if scared that Letty would actually be mad at her for not letting her baby die without a name.

"It's okay, you didn't cross a boundary, in fact, I'm very thankful. Besides you shouldn't be worried, the hospital should, they cremated _my _baby without my approval!" Suffice it to say that Letty's earlier anger had returned.

Five Days Later

Letty sighed as she walked out of the hospital, she couldn't believe that her son was dead and that she hadn't sued the hospital for cremating her son without her consent. Letty had wanted to do it with every fiber of her being, but the part of her that loved Dom didn't want to put him through the same grief that she was going through, the grief of losing your child. She knew that if she had gone through with it, it would have turned into a big story for the media, announcing her story to everyone and Dom would know. So, for the rest of her life, Letty would have to live with pictures of her son and not the real thing and deal with the sadness that though generated.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So whaddya think? Good, iffy, bad, better, could be better? Should I continue? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	2. Enter Brian

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Wow, 14 reviews, that's the second highest I've ever gotten for a chapter, highest for the first one…thanx…I won't be updating this every day, if my brain stops thinking about it obsessively, as I have five other stories that I'm writing, but I give you the second chapter to let you know I 'm continuing. Enjoy!

**Our Son**

Chapter 2: Enter Brian

_"You can't run from trouble; ain't no place that far away." Splash Mountain: Disney World_

Cussing up a storm, Brian raced away from the site of the race in his car, as he heard the police sirens and Tej, who was telling him to go, giving a new meaning to the saying "Push the pedal to the metal," especially in his car, which was from a junkyard and was fixed using junkyard materials. Brian headed in the opposite direction of the police, who seemed to be following him for some odd reason, well it seemed like it anyway.

Brian turned every which way, left, right, you name it, trying to avoid the cops and finally when he thought he was safe from the cops, pulled into a deserted alleyway. Placing his head on the steering wheel, Brian released a deep breath and then started laughing at himself for his earlier paranoia. Seriously, why in the world would the cops have a special interest in him? They didn't know who he was, no one really did, not even him, Brian decided to stop thinking about that.

Crap, that was a close call, but nothing would ever keep Brian from cars and racing, he knew that, because whereas most children had their parents as safety nets, Brian had racing and cars, it was all he'd ever had. Well, that and Rome. Brian had found the two most important things in his life on the same day, his passion and his "big brother". He'd been twelve years old and had spent his entire life in the foster care system, which he didn't really for at all. It had been raining cats and dogs that day, Brian remembered. He remembered everything about the day that had changed his life.

**************************************************************

_Three and a half years ago: Brian's pov_

_Twelve year old Brian O' Conner, as he called himself, wearing a white wife beater and red basketball shorts, ran out of his foster family's house, getting himself drenched in the process, but not really caring. It was three O' clock and, so, it was a normal to see a kid running out of his or her house. This ordinary picture of a kid running out excitedly to play in the rain, however, was ruined by the blood that was running down said kid's face and still seeping out of his cuts and the different colored myriad of bruised that adorned his arms. _

_Brian ran and ran, reaching up every now and then to wipe the blood and water off his face before it dripped into his mouth. He didn't really care where he went, as long as it was away from his "house" and "loving family," he'd be okay with it. Finally after running over two miles and finding a deserted alley, panting, sweating, and out of breath, Brian slid to the ground, his legs bending at the knees and effectively rested his tired and aching muscles._

_Feeling something dripping down, between his lips, Brian raised his left hand tiredly from its spot around his knee to wipe the offending substance. Brian grimaced when he realized he was too late and the offending substance slipped into his mouth, assaulting his taste buds with the coppery-metallic taste of blood._

_Brian tried to get rid of the nasty, metallic aftertaste in his mouth, while simultaneously using his already upraised left hand to wipe the blood, the results of the "gifts" his foster father, Marc Franks had given him, off of his face and neck. _

_He then used his wife beater, which was already covered in tiny specks of blood, almost making it look like it had a design on it from far away, to wipe his hand clean of the blood. Then leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, Brian thought about his life._

_It was sucky, to say the least. Sure, he was a "genius" or so the teachers said, but that didn't make up for everything else. It didn't make up for being tossed around from foster home to foster home, being abused in __**every**__ home, showing him how lucky he was. It sure as hell didn't make up for having no parents, no safety net, __**no one**__. It didn't make up for being alone and he knew that nothing ever would. Thinking about his life and deciding not to feel sorry for himself, after all it didn't get him anywhere, Brian, without his own consent, went to sleep._

_He woke up a little while later, according to him anyway, disoriented and sleepy. However, all traces of tiredness and sleep went away after he checked his watch. Crap, thought Brian, he was __**so**__ dead. It was nine O'clock, he had been out for __**six**__ hours, Marc was gonna __**kill**__ him and not because he was worried, but because he was a __**freakin**__ control freak. This last though gave Brian the strength to stay out longer, after all it didn't matter if he was six hours late or six weeks late, Marc was gonna kill him anyway, but he could only kill him once, so he might as well make the best of the time he had left._

_He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of growling engines coming from his right. Scrambling to his feet, Brian ran towards the sound and grimaced when the fence hit him, effectively knocking the breath out of him and making him fall. Scrambling to his feet after he had regained his breath, Brian grabbed the fence and then his face put his face close to the fence to see as best he could. His eyes widened and were then glued to the scene that greeted him._

_It was __**brilliant**__, the awesomest sight he'd ever seen, dozens of beautiful touched up cars waiting for the signal and at the drop of a flag they were all racing down the road. You couldn't really see the cars, they were going so fast that all you could see were multi-colored blurs, it was exhilarating just looking at them. He could imagine it; the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the excitement, the passion…it would just be __**awesome**__. _

_Suddenly there was a strong hand clamped on his shoulder and then said hand pulled him up and spun him around, pinning him against the fence. Scared, but not letting himself show it, Brian followed the large, dark hand to an equally large and dark man. He was large as in tall, not fat, but muscular, and bald. Taking in the bruising on his face and arms and the blood on his wife beater, the man let him go and Brian, after trying his best, wavered on his feet, but didn't fall._

_"Who are you?" asked the strong man, as Brian had found out via the throbbing pain in his shoulder._

_"Brian," replied Brian, not knowing if he could trust the man._

_"I'm Rome. How old are you."_

_"What's it to you?" asked Brian, determining that he wasn't going to be scared, telling himself that the worst this guy could do was kill him, which considering that it was the same thing that was gonna happen to him when he got home, it didn't really matter._

_"I'm just curious. I'm eighteen by the way," he said, then looked at the cars racing, they had rounded back. "Isn't it just awesome," he said, "I just __**love**__ it, you know? Brian nodded, he was beginning to understand that now that he'd seen it. "My dad, he's in the blue car, down there," he said pointing it out._

_Excited, Brian asked, "He's winning, isn't he?"_

_"Yeah," answered Rome, smiling at Brian's enthusiasm, "Guess what?" and then without waiting for an answer he continued, "He bought me a car the other day. It's all fixed and everything, I'm gonna race it next week, I've been practicing since I got my license."  
Hopping up and down, Brian asked, "Can I see? Can I see?"_

_"Yeah, buddy. Yeah, you can." He then led Brian to his car._

_As they walked toward his ride, Brian said, "Hey Rome, twelve."_

_So confused that he actually stopped, Rome asked, "What?"_

_Smiling, Brian said, "Twelve, that's how old I am."_

_Rome smiled and together, in a comfortable silence, they walked toward the car and it was a start of a beautiful relationship._

**************************************************************

Brian was pulled out of his thoughts by two black sedans pulling into the alley, one behind him and one in front of him. He was boxed in and seeing that, Brian's cussed, "Shit, shit, shit, Brian, you retard, just 'cause the cops weren't following you doesn't mean someone else wasn't." Knowing that it was futile to even try to escape, Brian waited for the people who had cornered him to show, they hadn't gone into all this trouble to just leave him here.

And sure enough two minutes later, four official looking people, wearing black suits walked up to him and the biggest guy, probably just the muscle, opened the door and then flashed an FBI badge at him and pushing toward the steering wheel, cuffed him, "Brian O' Conner, you are under arrest for street racing and driving after hours you only have your learner license."

Or maybe he'd been right. Right then Brian vowed to listen to himself more often.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So whaddya think? Good, iffy, bad, better, could be better? Should I continue? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	3. Deal

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Your reviews and support are very much appreciated and as a way to show my appreciation, I present the next chapter. Enjoy!

**Our Son**

Chapter 3: Deal

"_Only when we give joyfully, without hesitation or thought of gain, can we truly know what love means." __Leo Buscaglia_

_'_**Crap, I am so screwed**,' thought Brian, as he waited in the interrogation room of the Headquarters of the LA branch of the _FBI_. He'd been in the same, dull room for four hours. He knew that they were probably watching him and determined to not show any signs of weakness, doing his best to mask his worry and fear into boredom.

As he sat there, Brian couldn't help, but wonder what in the world did the Feds want with him? What could he possibly give them? He was just a sixteen year old kid and in most cases like this the kid would have been handed to the local police and, after a trial, would probably be _enjoying_ his stint in juvie.

Brian had a feeling that his questions were about to be answered, when he saw two impeccably dressed men, an African-American man and a taller, older Caucasian man, heading toward his "room". And judging by the way the agents, who had busted him, were kissing up to them, like a dogs who wanted a bone, he'd say they were higher up in the chain, '**Team leaders maybe,**' thought Brian.

Brian wasn't sure if he even wanted answers anymore, mostly because he had a feeling that he wouldn't particularly like what they had to say. They finally entered the room, not saying anything, just staring at him, apparently waiting for him to start the conversation.

In their presence, Brian felt small and oddly underdressed, what with them in their tailored suits and him in his favorite, worn-from-wear blue jeans and his cheap, Wal-Mart, AC/DC t-shirt, but most of all he felt vulnerable, a feeling he hadn't felt since he was fourteen, finally graduated, and had run away from his twenty-fourth and last set of foster parents.

Feeling very uncomfortable with those feeling, Brian in his typical manner tried his best to mask those feeling with his usual bravado, cocky attitude, and smart-ass remarks, and succeeded. Brian decided to break the very uncomfortable silence, he couldn't take it anymore, "Oh, it's about time, I'm hungry. I'll have a cheeseburger, extra onions. Oh yeah, and a mango/peach V8, thanks."

The dark-skinned man bristled and said, "You think you're funny."

Sensing that he getting under the man's skin, Brian smiled and nodded, "I think I'm adorable."

Then the Caucasian man took over, all business, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Brian. I'm special agent Nick Tanner and this is my partner Agent Bilkins."

Agent Bilkins, as he now knew him to be, placed a folder on the table in front of him and read, "Brian O' Conner, you turned 16 yesterday, parents unknown. Your psych profile says, is likely to use his cocky attitude and smart remarks to cover up his insecurities. You have self-esteem issues and would do anything for the people you love, which are few and far between, no matter the consequences to yourself."

Bilkins then looked up at Brian's stricken face and continued like the bastard that he was, "Wait, there's more. You have an IQ of 205, which classifies you as a genius, and graduated high school at fourteen, after which you got offered full-rides to many Ivy League colleges, like Harvard and Stanford, just to name a few. You were in the foster care system since the day you were born until you graduated high school, which was when you ran away from your last foster parents, Mike and Stacie Brown, and have been on the run ever since. The only person you seem to care about and have an emotional connection with is Roman Pearce, who for all accounts and purposed was your "big brother" and is now serving jail time at the Miami Correctional Facility…."

Brian cut Bilkins off before he could read anymore, "What do you want from me, Dude?"

Detective Tanner finally decided to speak up, "We want you to infiltrate a gang…"

Brian interrupted him by incredulously, asking to make sure that he'd heard right, "So, you…you want _me_…a sixteen year old kid to infiltrate a gang? _Are you on drugs, _dude? Because even if I did agree to do this, which I don't, _no one_ is gonna be stupid enough to take a kid into their gang."

"Brian," said Tanner patiently, "We wouldn't have approached you…" ignoring Brian's comment of "_arrested_ me," "if we didn't think that we could get you in. We've hired the best cosmetic professionals in the world, after progressing your image to how you would look at twenty-two, and together they've found the perfect combination of make up for you to use to get that affect."

Tanner held up his hand as Brian was once more about to interrupt, telling him to wait until he was finished, "The make-up is waterproof and can only be removed by rubbing alcohol or make up remover. They're going to design your hair and pick out your wardrobe to make you appear older. What do you say?"

"What do I get out of this?" asked Brian, it sounded exciting, but he knew that it could have awful ramification for him.

Bilkins answered his question, "You get to stay out of Juvie, we _won't_ call Mike and Stacie Brown, and you'll get to keep your license."

That was all good and well with Brian, but he was pretty sure he could get more out of this dead, "I'll do it if you let Rome go."

"Kid, we can find other people to do this. We're only given you this opportunity so that you don't have to go to Juvie," said Bilkins, Brian wondered if Bilkins was every _not_ angry.

Brian was pretty sure that wasn't true, because if it was then why would they have gone to such trouble to catch him, progress his image, call the cosmetic people to find the right combination for _him_, and he hoped he was right, "I'm not doing this until you promise to let Rome go."

Bilkins, his face turning an odd shade of red, said, "Then you're going to juvie, kid."

Putting on his cocky face once more, Brian smiled and said, "All righty then, send me off."

Tanner raised a hand to stop Bilkins from saying whatever he was about to say, "All right, Brian. Here's the deal, it's the best I can do; you infiltrate the Toretto gang and help me find the people that are hijacking the trucks and I'll get Rome cleared. What say, do we have a deal?" asked Tanner, holding out his hand.

Brian, not believing that he was actually doing this, shook the proffered hand and said, "Yeah, we've got a deal," and that was the catalyst that lead to a chain of events that would change Brian's life, as he knew it, forever.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

Was that chapter completely awful? Be honest cuz I could change it.

So whaddya think? Good, iffy, bad, better, could be better? Should I continue? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	4. Two Days Later

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Thank you so, so, much for your support. Hope you keep enjoying it. Love, Brownie.

**Our Son**

Chapter 4: Two Days Later

"_If you realize what the real problem is- losing yourself- you realize that this itself is the ultimate trial." Joseph Campbell_

Brian took a deep breath to clear his thoughts of any doubt or misgivings and entered the ugly-ass, red truck he got from Harry's Garage, which was the workplace of, one, Brian Earl Spilner. Inserting the keys, Brian put on his carefree and "I can do anything I set my mind to" persona, which along with his will power had been the only thing that had made him capable of surviving his childhood and not needing psychiatric help. It enabled him to be happy and see through the negatives and concentrate on the positives.

Looking into the side-view mirror of his car and seeing that there were no cars in his way, he pulled out of the sideway parking spot that was near his, Brian Spilner's apartment building. He headed toward Toretto's Cafe, which was also a grocery store and was owned by the Torettos. If he was honest with himself, which he was, Brian was scared shitless, he was going there for the first time ever and meet the people he was gonna narc on, Brian had been racing for four years under the pseudonym Bo, B for Brian and O for O'Conner, someone whose face no one had seen, and so knew the lingo.

Getting out of the truck after he'd parked, Brian made to close the door, but paused when he saw his reflection. Then reminding himself that he had a job to do, shut the car and turned and walked toward the door to the aforementioned grocery store/cafe. As he walked, Brian thought about what he'd seen in the side window of his car. Yeah, it was his reflection, only he didn't recognize it, not really. Sure, it looked the same, but, at the same time, it looked different too.

Brian Spilner was more mature and way older than Brian O'Conner, but yet he still had his sparkly, blue eyes, sun-kissed golden skin, and curly blonde hair, but Brian didn't think about that, he thought about the things that truly made him…_him_ and Brian Earl Spilner had all those attributes in spades. Brian Spilner was righteous and he had the same "Never back down" attitude that he did and this convinced Brian that he wouldn't lose himself in this because all in all, the two Brians were the same, he wondered if the cops knew that. And as for the higher level of matureness and looking older, well, he sure hoped so, what, after all the hours he'd spent with that idiotic profiler, who'd told him how a twenty-two year old driver would act and proved that she didn't know crap about people who loved cars, and the crazy cosmeticians, who he privately though should be called specialists in torture.

He shuddered at the memories, it was scarring! They'd put make up…_make up_ on him, seriously, make up was _not_ for dudes. They'd also measured his _private _areas, including his butt and had deemed it too small for a twenty-two year old and had come up with a solution a day later. They'd bought him baggy jeans of various colors and put some sort of foamy crap into the back of his jeans, where it wouldn't be visible, it wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing. Brian was glad that he'd talked them out of changing his hair color and making him wear contacts because he really didn't think he could do this if he couldn't even recognize himself.

Brian, realizing that he was at the door, pulled himself out of his thoughts and entered the store, taking in his surroundings, an act that he'd practiced so much as a kid that it had become second nature to him by the time he was six and he hadn't been able to stop since. He immediately recognized the lady behind the counter, Mia Toretto, aka his mark, Dominic Toretto's, sister. Brian effortlessly put on his most charming smile, the one that made everyone trust him and Rome said could get him anything he wanted.

And apparently Rome was right because Mia responded with a little smile of her own and walked over to him, "Can I get you anything?" Brian didn't know if her intent was to flirt with him or not, but the only thought that ran through his head was '**too old, she's too old**,' and he was shocked to say the least, but quickly pulled himself out of his reverie.

"Yes, p…" here he paused as if trying to decide, but in actuality thinking about how stupid he had been, he had almost said please and more than likely screwed his mission up, drivers did _not_ say please, " I'd like a tuna sandwich, on rye with no crust. Oh, and a coke." Brian had barely restrained himself from saying thanks, he had no idea where he'd gotten his good manners because his foster parents sure as hell hadn't taught him any of that, but they had given him an idea of exactly how not to be and maybe he'd taken that to heart, he really didn't know.

Brian was pulled out of his musings by the sound of a tapping shoe and raised his eyebrow elegantly when he realized it was Mia. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be serious? I'm hungry," apparently she'd believed him because she left to retrieve his food. While she was gone, Brian wondered why everyone always asked him that. Tuna was _good_, but, then again, not everyone was starved as a kid and was desperate for something…anything to eat. Heck, now Brian could truthfully say he liked tuna, maybe even felt like he owed it something, his bastard foster parent's biological kids never really liking it had given it to him, after all, it had kept him alive.

This time Brian wasn't lost in his thoughts and so wasn't startled when Mia came in carrying his food and drink and placed them on the countertop. The only reason Brian was able to say, "Thanks," before he started to gobble down his food like a starving man had been because of his manners and probably the fact that people had given him much less when he was little, which in turn made him grateful for everything he had.

Although he was engrossed with eating the sandwich, that he for one liked, Brian noticed that the whole while Mia just stood there and watched, sometimes bemusedly and at others as if he was somehow familiar, something that he highly doubted. Finishing his sandwich and taking a sip of his deliciously cold soda, Brian noticing that Mia _still_ had not left and quickly though of a way to get her off his back, that is without pissing her off.

Grinning his usual, endearing grin, Brian, wiping the bread crumbs off his face with the back of his right hand and then rubbing him stomach said, "That was a good sandwich, but I don't think that _anything_ is gonna beat my girlfriend, Selena's, tuna sandwich. She's a great cook and an even awesome girlfriend. I love her, wanna spend the next of my life with her," then looking up at Mia, still smiling, he asked, "Do you have anyone like that?"

Smiling sadly, Mia answered his question, "No, not yet."

Brian smile comfortingly and said, "Give it time, I bet someone as pretty….beautiful and nice as you will find someone as easy as pie."

Then taking out his worn, camo wallet, Brian retrieved and placed a five dollar bill and, then as an afterthought, a dollar as tip, (it was the cops' money, not his, so Brian didn't really care) and said, "See you, tomorrow," and left. Walking out to his car and heading for Harry's, Brian thought that all in all and compared to what could've happened, today had gone by pretty smoothly. Arriving at his destination and getting to work, Brian just hoped that the rest of it went as, if not more, smoothly, but he knew it was very unlikely that it would because luck was never on Brian O'Conner's side and probably never would be.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

Was that chapter completely awful? Be honest cuz I could change it.

So whaddya think? Should I continue? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	5. Three Weeks Later

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Thank you so, so, much for your support. Hope you keep enjoying it. Love, Brownie.

**Our Son**

Chapter 5: Three Weeks Later

"_If you realize what the real problem is- losing yourself- you realize that this itself is the ultimate trial." Joseph Campbell_

After driving for two hours around the track in his new, pimped out car, which could never compare to his pimped out piece-of-crap, his nickname for it

After he had driven for two hours around the track in his new, pimped out car, which, according to him could never compete with his pimped out piece of crap, as he liked to call it, Brian changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes into a clean pair of black jeans and a matching tee and switched the car for his "The Racer's Edge" truck.

Feeling great because he had just driven for the sake of driving for two hours, with no limits, nothing, just driving, just to feel the engine thrumming through the steering and his seat, and headed for the Toretto's Café. Apparently his good mood reflected on his face and grin because as soon as he walked in for the twenty-first consecutive day, Mia commented, "You look happy."

After taking his regular seat, Brian replied, "That's cuz I am."

Staying where she was, writing on something, Mia said, "Tuna on white, no crust, right?"

"I don't know. How is it?" said Brian grinning, easily slipping into his usual banter with Mia and looking at the V8-street magazine.

Staying where she was, but no longer writing, just twirling her pen idly, Mia replied, "Everyday for the past three weeks, you've come here, asking me how the tuna is. Now it was crappy yesterday. It was crappy the day before and guess what?" she asked, although he could tell it was rhetorical, finally looking at him. "It hasn't changed."

Looking up from the magazine for a second, Brian said, "I'll have the tuna."

"No crust?" asked Mia, now used to this.

"No crust," affirmed Brian, grinning and finally flipping the magazine shut. Then Mia got up to make his sandwich. Brian looked around trying to find something to do, but that was before someone moving behind the checkered glass caught his attention. It was a guy; he had a tan, was bald and wore a vest. Brian watched as the bald guy got a drink and then turned to look at him as he had sensed someone staring at him. And when he saw the guys face, Brian's suspicions were confirmed, it _was _his mark, the one and only Dominic Toretto. What surprised and perturbed Brian was the way Dom was looking at him, as if trying to solve a puzzle, but determined not to be the first to look away, Brian kept his gaze. He, then, sighed in relief when Dom turned around and walked back to where he had been sitting earlier, Brian couldn't believe he hadn't noticed, he always noticed threats, crap this was messing him up.

Brian was pulled out of his thoughts by Mia returning with his sandwich and placing it in front of him. Saying, "Thank you," Brian started to dig in to his sandwich, hey, he hadn't eaten anything all day, while Mia watched on bemusedly (it had become tradition) and flipped through the V8 magazine. Brian pulled himself away from his food and turned to look toward the road as he heard car engines that had to belong to a racing car.

And sure enough a minute later four, sweet-looking, cars; a red, yellow, blue, and white one, pulled over next to the café and the drivers got out. The drivers consisted of a lady and three guys. The lady, who was in the red car, was a little older than Mia and wore cargo pants and a red, cut-off, tank top. The first guy that came out was from the yellow car; he had a triangle-shaped beard and wore an unbuttoned, button-up over a black wife-beater. He seemed to be younger than the lady.

The second guy, well, there was no other word for it, he was huge and scary looking. He had tattoos all over and wore a pink tank top over a cream-colored one and had a beard and a mustache. He came out of the blue car and was talking to the guy in the white car, who was the opposite of the big guy in every way. He was younger than the rest of them, closest to the yellow-car dude's age. He wore glasses, a snow-cap, and a vest. Brian watched as he walked over to the blue car and looked under the hood, so he was Jesse, the resident, car genius, 24 years old.

Brian pulled away from his study of them, once he'd realized who each and every one of them was before they noticed, after all, he'd done his research, and started talking to Mia. Brian didn't know what happened between the time he turned around and between the time he heard boots making squeaky noises on the floor and someone saying, "He's trying to get in Mia's pants, dog."

Brian chose to not concentrate on the fact of how nasty that was, Mia was pretty and all that but she was twenty-eight while he was sixteen, _so _not gonna happen. He was pulled out of making himself not throw up, when Mia called out, "What's up guys?"

"How you doin', Mia?" and three people, so someone had stayed back, Brian noted, walked to the side and toward Dom. Letty, the lady, calling out, "How you livin', Girl?"

Then someone, namely Vince, the thirty-six year old guy was sitting on the stool next to him and knocking a cup toward him and just staring at him, which was pretty creepy, but Brian didn't let himself show how weirded-out he was.

"Vince!" said Mia and then when he didn't respond, screamed, "Vince," causing him to finally look up at her, "What?"

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, her voice polite as could be, but her face challenging.

"You look good," said Vince, looking her over, and causing Brian to look at him through the corner of his eye. So, Vince had a crush on Mia, hmm. Deciding to think about that later, Brian got up and drew out his worn wallet, gathering the money he owed Mia. Then tossing the money on the counter, he said, "Thanks a lot, Mia. See you tomorrow." All the while Brian pretended that Vince looking at him incredulously didn't bother him.

"Sure," replied Mia and, taking that as his cue, Brian walked out and then looked back when he heard Vince angrily mutter, "Tomorrow?"

The next thing that Brian heard and ignored was the sound of something hitting the counter and a stool falling, followed by Vince yelling, "Yo!" As much as he was tempted to, Brian didn't turn around or stop, that is until Vince followed him out and forcefully said, "Try Fatburger from now on. Get yourself a Double Cheese with fried for 2.95, faggot." Crap, that was his pet peeve when people called people faggot or gay, like not as a joke. It wasn't because he was gay, heck no, but he knew that people had no right to complain or judge other people's lifestyles if it didn't affect them because frankly, it was none of their freakin business.

So turning around and knowing that this would affect Vince and make him angrier than anything else, said, "I like the tuna here." He then kept walking toward his car, even as Vince (although Brian didn't know it) heading toward him as fast as he could without running, yelled, "Bullshit, Asshole No one likes the tune here."

About two feet away from his truck, Brian replied, "Yeah, well, I do." And the next thing that Brian knew was someone pushing him from the back and his head coming in contact with the driver's side window. Brian had decided when he was thirteen, after he'd gotten self-defense lessons from Rome, that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him without a fight and that want gonna change now, so he reared back and punched the man in the face, making him fall backward. This was why he weight lifted every day, so he could fight back against people who were bigger than him.

He had to hand it to Vince though, for a man as big as he was, he got back up pretty fast and, before he knew it, was tackling him until he hit his truck. Recovering quickly and knowing that Vince didn't expect this, Brian ran them in the other direction and they spun in circles for a while, tossing punches here and there. Finally Brian got in position to keep Vince pinned over his knee by gripping his bicep, and started pummeling his stomach with his right hand.

Out of the blue, Vince gripped Brian's arm that was holding his bicep and using his strength flipped him over and, straddling his hips, started to beat the mess out of his face. Then Brian locking his legs around Vince's left leg, elbowed him in the stomach, and using his surprise to his advantage flipped them over, so that he had the upper hand.

Brian was just getting into beating the crap out of the dude who was probably going to turn out like one of his ex-foster father's when someone grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and tossed him on top of the yellow car like he weighed nothing.

Looking up, Brian found himself face to face with the big dog himself, Dom Toretto, and so holding up his hands, as if to say I'm the victim in this he rose, so that he was sitting on the trunk of the car and said, "Hey, man. He was in my face."

Then they reply that Brian had been expecting came, "_I'm_ in your face," this came with Dom stepping closer to him and Brian braced himself for the blow he was expecting would come, but never did. Instead he saw a scene that surprised him; Vince was coming toward them presumably to attack him again, but Dom stopped him and pushed him away, pointing his finger and roaring, "Relax! Don't push it! You embarrass me!"

He then watched as Leon and everyone tried to get Vince to listen to Dom, as far as pushing him and saying, "Get over there!" He also watched as Dom told Jesse, who had his wallet apparently, "Jesse, give me the wallet," and Jesse did. G…Goldfish, What century were they living in? He watched as Dom opened his wallet, saw his driver's license, and read, "Brian Earl Spilner. Sounds like a serial killer name."

Then, "Is that what you are?" he asked pointing with his wallet.

"Nah, man," answered Brian, thinking that the dude was crazy.

Handing him his wallet, Dom ordered, as if he expected his orders to be followed all the time, "Don't come around here again."

Grabbing his wallet, Brian said, "Hey, man. You know this is bullshit."

Brian watched as Dom turned back around threateningly, surprise flickering through his eyes when he saw that Brian stood his ground and then vanished quickly as he walked toward him, "You work for Harry, right?

"Yeah, I just started."

"You were just fired," stated Dom, as if it was a fact and he controlled everything, and turned around and left along with everyone, leaving Brian there alone.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So whaddya think? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

Next Chap: Dom and Mia's pov, and what happens next.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	6. What Did You Put In That Sandwich?

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 14) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Thank you so, so, much for your support. Sorry for the lateness, but my laptop got messed up and I had to open it up and fix it. Anyway, hope you keep enjoying it. Love, Brownie.

**Our Son**

Chapter 6: What Did You Put In That Sandwich?

"_If you realize what the real problem is- losing yourself- you realize that this itself is the ultimate trial." Joseph Campbell_

Mia smiled when she saw the red truck pull up next to the store, Brian was here, she'd been expecting it, but she still looked forward to talking to him, it had become an everyday occurrence. No, she didn't like-like him, she just thought that he was a nice guy and they were friends. Her smile widened when she saw him get out of his truck and started walking in her direction. He looked very good in his black jeans and tee, well, she thought so anyway, in a completely platonic way of course.

Mia hid her smile and face in the paperwork when he walked in, facing sideways, "You look happy," she said, mainly because she'd seen that million-watt grin that was covering his face.

She watched him sit on his regular seat and start flipping through the V8 magazine, then almost as an afterthought, he replied, "That's cuz I am." So, he wasn't going to elaborate why, hmm, that was one of the reasons she liked Brian; he was a complicated puzzle, just when she thought she had him figured out, the last piece went missing or a new piece was added. For example, the way he was flipping through the magazine, she wouldn't have taken Brian as a racer, he drove a truck for God's sake, in her opinion he looked more like a surfer or a model; seriously, he had bright blue eyes, perfect golden skin, and blonde hair that framed his face perfectly, the end result making him look angelic.

Remembering that he'd told her that this was the first thing he ate everyday and that he was probably hungry, she asked, "Tuna on white, no crust, right?"

She smiled internally when he easily bantered back, used to their weird friendship by now, "I don't know. How is it?"

Rolling her eyes, and knowing that he knew she was kidding, mock-smart-aleckly said, "Everyday for the past three weeks, you've come here, asking me how the tuna is. Now it was crappy yesterday. It was crappy the day before and guess what?" And then not giving him the chance to say anything and finally turning to look at him, she answered her own question, "It hasn't changed."

Grinning his usual, blinding grin, he finally looked up at her for the first time today and placed his order, "I'll have the tuna."

"No crust?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"No crust," he confirmed and flipped the magazine shut, but not before she saw what he had been looking at, new car parts. As she walked in Dom's direction to "make" his sandwich, she got her head around the idea that she had been right, he _was_ a racer. Reaching the place, which was only five feet away, she grabbed the already made sandwich and started peeling off the crust.

**************************************************************

Dom ignored Mia's conversation with whoever their customer was, even though she was talking more than she did with most of their customers, Mia was a big girl, she could choose whoever she wanted to. He continued to fill in the paperwork, he had to get it done by tomorrow. When there was a pause in conversation, Dom started feeling thirsty and got up to get himself a drink. As he grabbed himself a drink, the hair on the back of his neck rose and he had the feeling that somebody was watching him. And so he turned around slowly, letting whoever it was know that it hadn't affected him, but he was struck speechless by the person he saw, although he didn't know why.

He recovered quickly, hiding his surprised and sucker-punched expression, and studying the kid's face, and, when he had it memorized, he walked back over to his previous spot. He then sat down with his back to the kid and released a deep breath. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about that kid. Something that…that made Dom feel things he hadn't felt about anyone before, not even Mia or Jesse.

He didn't even know the kid, but he felt…like…like he should _know_ the kid, heck, he felt protective of him and he'd never even talked to the dude. And to be completely honest, it kind of scared Dom, because he knew that if he actually got to know the kid, that he'd get even more attached to him and let his guard down, and he could _not_ do that, he could _not_ let his family down. It was _his _job to protect them and to do it right, he had to get rid of the kid, but first he had to find an excuse, which he didn't have _yet_.

**************************************************************

Mia watched as the guys' cars pulled over, sighing when she saw Vince come out and stare at Brian, crap, this was not gonna be fun. She saw Brian watching the guys too, only he looked to be contemplating something, Mia didn't have time to wonder what he was thinking because the guys were there and she heard Leon say, "He's trying to get in Mia's pants, dog."

This was not gonna be fun at all. She like Vince, she really did, but his alpha male routine, especially when it came to her, really got on her nerves. And if he stopped, then maybe, just maybe, she would consider taking him up on his offer of dinner, but it hadn't happened yet and she didn't expect for it to happen anytime soon.

Mia sighed when she saw Vince take a seat next to Brian, sparing a second to smile at Letty when she greeted her with, "How you livin' girl?" and walked away with Leon and Jesse following her. She then turned around, fuming, when she heard the sound of a glass being knocked over, and got even madder when she saw him glaring at Brian, she had to give it to the guy, he wasn't backing down.

"Vince," she hissed, when he kept glaring at Brian, and when he didn't turn around or stop, raised her volume, "Vince!"

Finally looking away from Brian, he turned toward her and asked, "What?"

Looking at him challengingly, she asked in a polite-as-could-be voice, "Can I get you anything?"

He answer wasn't what any other person would say, but it was typical of him. He, after looking her over, said, "You look good." She looked at him incredulously in response, not letting on as to how she really felt, which was _great_! She didn't get to revel in those feelings though because then her attention was pulled to Brian, who was standing up and pulling out his wallet. Slapping a couple of bills onto the counter, he said, "Thanks a lot, Mia. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure," replied Mia and watched Brian walk out. Then she heard an angrily whispered, "Tomorrow?" Crap, she'd forgotten about Vince, this was _really_ gonna suck. She sighed once more as Vince yelled, "Yo!" and then when Brian didn't react, followed him and forcefully ordered, "Try Fatburger from now on. Get yourself a Double Cheese with fried for 2.95, faggot."

Brian was usually a calm person, so she didn't expect him to turn around and say, "I like the tuna here," and then keep walking, surely he had to know that that would only aggravate Vince more and as much as she believed in Brian, she didn't think that he could take Vince on.

She then saw Vince, who was now heading fast toward Brian, call out, "Bullshit, Asshole. No one likes the tuna here."

And Brian the retard that he was, without once stopping, talked back, "Yeah, well I do." And then Vince was a blur and the next second Brian was being tackled face first into his truck. Mia had expected that, but what she didn't expect was for Brian to rear back and plant one on Vince, a really hard one if the way that Vince fell down was anything to go by. She was so surprised that Mia just stood there for a couple of minutes, only coming out of her shock when she saw Vince beating up on Brian and then Brian reversing the position and going on a rampage of his own.

Mia expected Dom to get up and put a stop to it, but when he didn't she turned toward him and yelled, "Jesus Christ, Dom! Would you get out there? I'm sick of this shit!"

**************************************************************

Dom knew what was most likely happening outside, which was Vince beating up on the kid. Usually Dom would have already gone and stopped it, but he was smart enough to recognize an opportunity when he saw it, and this would be a perfect reason for the kid to not come back. And that was why Dom didn't even move one muscle when he heard Mia yell, "Jesus Christ, Dom! Would you get out there? I'm sick of this shit!"

But he finally got up, although slowly, when she increased her volume, "I'm not kidding, Dom. Get out there!" Turning to face her he was about to say something about Vince beating up on the kid, when he saw something that shocked him; the kid was repeatedly punching Vince and at this moment clearly had the upper hand.

He knew there was something about that kid, he reminded him of someone, but deciding to not think about that right now, he, leaning against the glass window, asked, "What did you put in that sandwich?"

"That's funny," replied Mia sarcastically, clearly unhappy that Dom hadn't even moved from his spot behind the window yet.

That changed when Letty hissed, "Dom!" His entire demeanor changed when she said that, although he didn't realize that, and he, admitting defeat, said, "All right," and headed outside with Leon and Jesse following him. What could he say, he loved that woman. By the time that he got outside, Vince was on his back and the kid was straddling his stomach and punching his face. Speeding up, Dom grabbed the kid by the waistband of his pants and, after hauling him up, tossed him onto the trunk of Leon's car.

Rising up so that he was sitting on the trunk, instead of lying on it, the kid, holding his hands up non-threateningly, as if it explained everything, which it sort of did, although Dom wouldn't admit it, said "Hey, man. He was in my face."

Using intimidation on the kid, who was probably even younger that Jesse, felt wrong somehow, like it wasn't supposed to be that way…like he was supposed to be _protecting_ the kid, not be the one he needed protecting _from_, but he did it anyway. He got in the kid's face and hissed, "I'm in your face." He sensed that the boy, he really needed to find out his name, was about to say or do something, but was then distracted by something behind Dom. Dom knew what it was when he heard boots thudding down onto the floor and did what he had just a second ago felt like he should be doing; he protected the kid.

More specifically, he blocked Vince's punch that was aimed at the kid and then pushed him towards Leon, who grabbed him and held him down to the best of his ability. Then when Vince didn't stop, Dom raising a warning finger, yelled, "Relax! Don't push it! You embarrass me!" Vince really had just embarrassed him, thought Dom, as he turned back around to face the guy, what he saw really making him wonder how old the guy was.

He wondered that because adults, in Dom's book anyway, were closed-off people, who hold their secrets to their chests and what not and this guy standing in front of him was wearing his emotions on his sleeve, heck he revealed them more than Jesse did, anyone could look at him and tell that he was confused, maybe even a little angry, but not at all scared, and Dom had to give that to him, here he was, cornered five to one and still holding his ground. It was…impressive.

Wanting to know more about the mysterious guy, Dom turned toward Jesse and ordered, "Jesse, give me the wallet." Opening the wallet, after Jesse had given it to him, he quickly studied the license, realizing that he had been right on both accounts, one that the guy was a kid via his age, which read twenty-two, and two that he was younger than Jesse, who was twenty-five. He then, looking up at the kid, it had been confirmed, and enunciating the first three words, said, "Brian Earl Spilner. Sounds like a serial killer name."

Dom was shocked when the kid didn't react because most kids would take offense to that and get mad, but quickly recovered, "Is that what you are?"

And Dom finally got his first response out of the kid since the beginning of this thing, "Nah, man."

Dom liked the kid and thought that he had balls, but he knew that he had to think of his family first, and if today's reaction was anything to go by, Vince wouldn't gel with the kid. So, that was why he handed the kid back his wallet and threateningly said, "Don't come around here again." He then turned around and started walking back, turning around once more when he heard the kid say, "Hey, man. You know this is bullshit." Even as he walked over to the kid menacingly, he had to admit that the kid had once more surprised him, but maybe that was because he had gotten used to everyone listening to his orders and no one questioning them.

"You work for Harry, right?" asked Dom when he got reached the kid.

Th…Brian answered his questioned unflinchingly and without once ending eye contact, showing that he really wasn't scared and unknowingly telling Dom that, he couldn't do anything to him that hadn't already been done, " Yeah, I just started."

Dom forced himself to think about his family and their safety so that he didn't feel sorry for the kid and somehow expose his family to trouble. He then said, "You were just fired," and walked away from the kid, using every ounce of his will-power to not turn back and look at the kid, knowing it would make him feel even sorrier for the kid and more than likely take him in.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So whaddya think? Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

Next Chap: Dom and Mia's pov, and what happens next.

*wishes really, _really _hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.


	7. Race Night I

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

AN: Um, I changed the age that Brian graduated high school at twelve, thus giving him four years to be on his own and race. Would anyone like to beta this story…and explain how betaing works (PM me),

Hi, guys!! I'm sorry for the lateness, but I have been really busy with tennis, softball, basketball, and ACT stuff (including the test), and babysitting. But rest assured that none of my stories have been abandoned. I will hopefully have more time now.

P.S This chapter is dedicated to degrassijayandalex, hope you guys all enjoy and thanks for all the support and reviews. Love, Brownie.

**Our Son**

Chapter 7: Race Night

"_It's not how you stand by your car; it's how you race your car." Edwin, The Fast and The Furious._

Brian was so shocked he just stood there for a minute, staring incredulously at the café with his mouth open, before he shook himself out of his stupor and walked back to "his truck and, after revving the engine, headed to the Racers' Edge. As he drove, Brian tried to process what had happened, wondering '**What in the world had just happened?**' and '**When the hell did I enter the fudging twilight zone?**'

Honestly, what he had just seen was absurd. Seriously, this was the twenty-first century. Brian's last thought before he reached "The Edge," as he called it and got out of the truck was, '**Man, I'm glad **_**I'm**_** not part of their family!**' Little did he know that soon he would come to regard those _weirdos_, as he thought of them now, with the same amount of care and respect he did Rome, and that was saying something.

**************************************************************

5 Hours Later

'**FreakFreakFreak,**' Thought Brian as he raced toward the site of the race, pushing a hundred. He couldn't believe that he'd actually fallen asleep at "home" and now was about to be late for the race. Seriously, he hadn't taken a nap in…,actually he'd never taken one, he'd always been afraid of what would happen if he left himself even more defenseless than he already was.

"Damn it," cursed Brian, as he found his train of thought heading toward his childhood and, since he _so_ didn't want to go back there, he turned his thoughts over to his conversation with Harry five years prior, just after Harry had gotten off of the phone with Dom.

**************************************************************

_Brian walked past Harry as he headed toward the little room with the sink at the back of the garage and inadvertently caught the end of his conversation on the phone, "…I owe you." He didn't pay any attention to Harry though and thus was surprised, although he hid it well, when he fell into step with him and then started lecturing him._

"_Brian, you're messing with my business. When Dom," aah, thought Brian, so that was who he was talking to, apparently Dom had been serious about getting him fired, "drives, he's golden." They kept walking, Harry kept talking, and Brian kept ignoring him, "Kids pour in here, they want everything he has, every performance part. They pay cash!"_

_Brian almost sighed in relief when he saw the door to the aforementioned room, entered, and made a beeline for the sink, sighing internally when Harry followed. He so did not wanna hear this. He turned on the water and set about washing his face when a thought struck him and he cut Harry off, "What did Dominic say?"_

"_You don't wanna know," replied Harry, causing Brian to huff and repeat himself, only with more force this time._

"_What did he say?" he demanded, managing to sound pretty commanding for a sixteen year old if he did say so himself. He silently whooped in victory when Harry truthfully answered his question._

"_He wants you out of here."_

"_He wants me outta here?" asked Brian, turning off the tap water and facing Harry. Barely hearing Harry's affirming "Yes". Brian turned around to change his shirt, grabbing a fresh gray one before peeling his black one off, "And what did you say to Dom?"_

_Then, when Harry replied, "What do you think I said, Kid?" Brian turned around with his shirt half on, because just then he'd sounded tired and weary beyond his years. After he'd turned around, Brian realized that Harry was staring at something, something that had startled him very much. And in his search to determine what had affected Harry so much, Brian followed his line of sight to his own stomach, more specifically a souvenir from his childhood and a goodbye present from his fifth foster father: a gruesome looking array of cigarette burns. _

_Self-consciously Brian pulled his shirt all the way on and, feeling out of sorts, repeated his earlier question, "What did you say to Dom?"_

_And taking it for what it was – a truce and a decision to never talk about this again – Harry answered, "I told him good help was hard to find."_

_Brian grinned at that, having already pushed the incident with the scar to the back of his mind, and, as they headed out to word, asked, "He actually bought that?"_

"_I guess, why wouldn't he?"_

"_I dunno," the spotting the NOS, he got an idea, and while he headed toward it, knowing that Harry would follow he said, "Harry, I need NOS." _

"_Um, Why?" asked Harry, staring at him like he'd imagine a parent would, not that he knew. _

"_I need it to race. Um, One of the big ones…actually let's make it two. Oh, and Harry, I need it by tonight." And with that Brian turned around and headed back to the room: he had to get ready for the race, of course, he hadn't counted on himself falling asleep and probably being late._

**************************************************************

Brian was pulled out of his thoughts by the sounds of purring engines and loud music; he had arrived at the sight of the race. Looking out his window, Brian eyes were met by, what was according to him, the greatest sight ever: a bunch of beautiful touched up cars, people who were high from the adrenaline of the race, and a long clean road, it was the same site that he had seen almost four years ago, but now he was a part of it. It was Brian's version of heaven.

After finding an empty spot for his car, Brian hopped out, just taking in the site. He was so lost in taking in the beauty of the cars that he almost jumped when someone came up to him and said, "Sweet ride. What you runnin' under there, man?" The man was bald and had a Hispanic look about him, not that Brian cared. He just lifter his lip up in a half-smirk, and the guy, also grinning, asked, "Going to make me find out the hard way?"

"Hell yeah," replied Brian, his trademark grin covering his face. Still smiling, the guy continued, "You brave. You brave," and then introduced himself, "They call me Hector. I got a last name too, but I can't pronounce it, so…"

Brian liked this guy and, so, holding out his hand, he introduced himself, "Brian Spilner." On which Hector commented, "Typical white-boy name. Know what I'm saying."

Hector then leaned back on Brian's car and pointed toward a purple car that was being worked on, "See that over there? That's mine. My baby, I ain't cuttin' her loose tonight."

Curious, like always, Brian asked, "Why not?"

"Cuz I'm goin' legit, homey. Trying to get on the NIRA circuit," he explained, "Ya' heard about that?"

"Hell yeah," replied Brian, and it was true, Tej had told him about it 2 years ago, when he was driving as Bo in Miami, trying to get him to go for it, but Brian just couldn't not race. He lived for it.

Hector than asked, "So, what's up with you, man?" Brian, who noticed a short, dark man, with dreadlocks heading their way, replied as if he hadn't, "I'm just waiting for Toretto."

That was when the dark man joined the conversation, "Shit. Better get in line," then looking at his car appreciatively, he asked, "This yours?"

"Yeah," answered Brian, feeling like he was lying, he didn't think he could ever think of this car as his, he just wanted his piece-of-trash, he loved that car, "I'm standing next to it."

"That's funny," said the guy, "You know, Edwin happens to know a few things," aah, Edwin so that was his name, "and one of the things Edwin knows is: It's not how you stand by your car…it's how you race your car. You better learn that." And those were apparently his parting words because after he said them he turned and left. And when he did, Brian grinned wryly, yeah, he'd just been the most sought after racer in Miami, that didn't mean he knew how to drive.

His attention was then pulled away from his thoughts by the sounds of people cheering, and Brian turned toward the source of the chaos and was greeted by five familiar cars: the Toretto's were here.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad? Be honest, if it truly is awful, I would be happy to rewrite it?

And, again, as I mentioned above, would anyone like to beta this story and explain how that works? If you are plz PM me.


	8. Race Night II

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fast and the Furious or Paul Walker or Vin Diesel. In fact I don't really own anything, that's sad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hi, guys!! I'm sorry for the lateness, again. Real life really messes with my writing schedule, as do real ideas. Sorry, but I finally wrote a chapter.

P.S This chapter is dedicated to all you guys…thanks for the awesome reviews, this is the first story of mine to have crossed the hundred reviews mark. You guys rock. Hope you like, Love, Brownie 

**Our Son**

Chapter 8: Race Night II

"_You were born to win, but to be a winner, you must plan to win, prepare to win, and expect to win." Zig Ziglar_

'_It's show time,'_ thought Brian as the cars passed by him and then slowed to a stop. His attention was on the red car, the one leading the pack, or more specifically its driver: one, Dominic Toretto. Brian watched as Dom got out of the car and immediately was greeted by all the racers, _'I gotta give it to him, he's got their respect,' _and then what he seemed to enjoy more: the ladies.

"Hey, Dom. How you doin'?"

"Jamille..," greeted Dom, slipping his arms around the pretty, but definitely _not _Brian's type, girl's waist.

Brian found a smile covering his face as Letty, he'd read her file and knew all about the dysfunctional relationship between her and Dom, saw the scene after getting out of the car and immediately went to attack the completion. After growling, she said, "I smell…" and then, after pretending to sniff, continued, "skanks. Why don't you girls just pack it up before I leave tread marks all over your face."

It wasn't a question and Brian could see the girls got the message when they turned around and said, "Okay," as they made to leave. The look on Dom's face, when that happened, looked eerily similar to that on a kid's face when his or her mother said, "It's time for bed."

"Letty, I was just talking to them," said Dom as he read the look of disappointment in Letty's face.

"Yeah, whatever," she snapped, and left presumably to talk to someone else. Brian's smile faded as he remembered what else he had read on Letty's file, _'I wonder if Dom knows that he could have had a kid who'd be…exactly my age, right now. Talk about coincidence.'_ He felt sorry for Letty it had barely been a month since the anniversary of the day her son had died.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Dom saying, "Hey," before turning to find the person he was addressing, "Hector."

"Hey, what's up, Man?" Asked Hector, walking up to Dom. He was then joined by Edwin, who greeted Dom with a fist bump and a, "Yo, wassup?"

"Edwin," greeted Dom obligingly before Edwin asked, "How we doin' this today?"

"One race – two G buy in, winner takes all. Hector, you're gonna hold the cash," explained Dom.

As he threw in his buy in, one of the racer's asked, "Why Hector?"

Edwin answered his question, "Cuz he's too slow to make away with the money, Man." This declaration was met with laughter and a series of "oohs"; it reminded Brian of a kindergarten class after someone was called to the principal's office.

Brian remembered that he wasn't here just to observe, when Dom patted Hector and the guy that asked the question on the back as he said, "Okay, good luck, guys," and made to leave. That was when Brian acted, calling out, "Hey, wait, hold up," as he headed toward their little group.

"I don't have any cash, but," he said, pausing as he raised the white sheet of paper, "I do have the pink slip to my car."

It was Jesse who commented first, "Hey, you can't just climb into the ring with Ali cuz you think you're box." Brian could honestly say he had no idea what that meant and so he just pointed at Vince and said, "He knows I can box." Not seeing Vince's frown because he was still facing Jesse and Dom, Brian said, "So check it out, it's like this: I lose, winner takes my car – clean and clear –, but if I win, I take the cash _and _I take the respect."

This declaration, too, was met with laughter and Dom mutter, "Respect," like it was a joke, so Brian, looking straight into Dom's eyes, countered, "To some people that's more important."  
Dom looked contemplative before he, nodding toward the car, asked, "That your car?" The response once he nodded was instantaneous, everyone headed toward the car after Jesse and Dom. Then Jesse popped the hood revealing the parts that Jesse called out, "I see a cool-air intake. It's got a NOS-fogger system and a T-four turbo, Dominic. I see an A.I.C controller. It had direct port nitrous injection."

"Yeah, and a stand-alone, fuel management system," he then looked at Brian and continued, "Not a bad way to spend ten thousand dollars." Brian just shrugged; it's not like it was his money.

"See that shit," commented Edwin disbelievingly, "he's got enough NOS in there to blow himself up!"

"Yeah," agreed Dom, looking at Brian. This time Brian didn't react; he knew that and he also knew that this would make him look like a rookie, which was exactly what he was going for.

"So, what do you say? Am I worthy?" It was everyone against him, but that didn't bother Brian, it had always been like that before he'd me Rome, he knew how to deal with it.

"We don't know yet," said Dom with a smirk covering his face, he then pointed bills worth a total of two grand at him and said "but you're in," the pointing them toward the cars he said, "let's go!" And everyone did, getting in their cars and heading for the starting point. The guys that were racing lined up while everyone else except the Torettos that weren't racing parked on the side. The Torettos, however, used their cars to cover the road making an improvised blockade.

Even as Brian parked into his spot, he saw a pizza guy come up on the road, honking when he saw the blockade, then jump out when no one moved. Brian saw Leon say something and, although he was too far away, he got the gist of it and he couldn't help, but laugh, it was funny and '_'Sides,' _he thought, '_I'm a kid, I have the right to be immature.'_

He was getting the heady feeling that always came from the adrenaline rush that racing gave him and his legs starting bouncing up and down (that usually went away when the race actually started.) Then once someone had checked the police scanner for cops, the signal was given for the racers to rev their engines and move to the starting line. Everyone cheered as the moved to the red line and Brian started the ritual he always did to prepare himself for a race while everyone else did their own.

For him, it was closing his eyes and getting himself into the right mindset for the race; For Dom, it was turning on his music; and for Edwin, it was Monica, or some lady whose name started with an M (Brian really had _not _ needed to see or hear her little pep talk.) It went without saying that everyone checked on their NOS and navigation systems to make sure they both worked properly.

"You're gonna win," Brian said to himself, after setting everything up. "I'm gonna win," he affirmed one last time, looking at himself in the mirror. He then took a deep breath even as a megawatt grin lit up his face when Hector held his hand up in the air as if to say, 'We're good to go,' and then as everyone cheered at the sounds of roaring engines he brought his hands down and yelled, "Go!" And, just like that, the race had begun.

…TBC…

(If you want me to?)

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad?

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


	9. Race Night III

Disclaimer: I own the Fast and the Furious and am rich…wait, that was a dream. My bad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hi, guys!! Faster update than usual, but I really wanna write the Tran scene, so thank it, not me. Anywho, hope you like the chapter, Love, Brownie 

**Our Son**

Chapter 9: Race Night III

"_Above anything else, I hate to lose." Jackie Robinson_

And, just like that, they were off with Dom Toretto in the lead, _'That's gonna be changing soon,'_ thought Brian, a true grin covering his face, revealing his perfect white teeth, and his body practically vibrating with restrained energy, as he pushed down on the accelerator and skillfully weaved his way through the cars until the only person standing in his way to Dominic Toretto was Edwin. A smile was practically etched into his face as he hit the Nos and flew past Edwin, smile widening as he heard the guy yell, "No! Monica." It took him a second to realize that that was probably the name of the guy's inspiration. Brian would forever deny the evil laughter that bubbled out of his throat at that thought before he realized that his Nos was running out and that he was almost near the Italian and forced himself to focus.

He caught the momentary flicker of surprise in Dom's expressive eyes when he saw who was neck to neck with him and the more blatant shock that flitted through his face as he passed him. Brian whooped in delight, his jaw starting to hurt from being stretched into a smile for so long, before he realized that he had to lose and his smile vanished all together. Brian sighed, feeling very conflicted; on one side – the rational one – he knew that if he won, his chances of getting into the crew were slim to none, because surely there was no way that Toretto would want someone who could challenge –no –, _beat _him on his crew, and on the other side – the childish, competitive side – didn't want to lose, because losing – whether on purpose or not – was _not _in Brian O' Conner's dictionary.

'_Well, it wasn't until today, anyway,' _Brian thought despondently as he subtly let Dom catch up with him and then intentionally channeling an idiotic amateur hit his second Nos, when his fingers were itching to play it smart: let Dom use his Nos and, then, after waiting ten seconds, hit his own. _'God, I hate this,' _thought Brian as the car's – it was _not _ his car – piston rings got fried, he hadn't done _that _ on purpose, but it still wasn't what he was talking about that, _'This whole Brian Spilner thing…it's already changing me.' _

Brian honestly didn't care about the car stopping in the middle of the road and what people might be saying about it, _'Guess that's the benefit of having people talking bad about you left, right, and center: you just don't care anymore.' _ He could also truthfully say that he did not feel an ounce of embarrassment as he made the tedious drive to the finish line, where everyone else had already parked.

Brian came out of the car with a "devil-may-care" grin covering his face, not letting it fall off of his face as some people booed him and others complimented him on how close he'd come to beating Toretto because if his life had taught him anything it was that a positive attitude could get you through anything. Then next thing he knew, everyone was surrounding car and Jesse, as he popped the hood, asking – rhetorically, of course - , "Was that fun?"

Brian smiled as the smoke came out and looked up at Dom, prompting the older man to ask, "What are you smilin' about?"

Grinning like a loon, Brian pointed his right index and middle fingers at Dom and cackled, "Dude, I almost had you!" Everyone started laughing and Dom disbelievingly repeated, pointing his fingers accordingly, "_You _almost had _me_."

"You never had me. You never had your car," he emphasized. Then walking around the car he started lecturing and Brian tuned him out, _'Like I've never had a lecture from Rome before.' _He tuned back in when he thought Dom was about to stop, "…and replace the piston rings you fried." At this he looked at Mia, who was laughing at him, only he could tell by her eyes that she didn't mean anything by it.

"Ask any racer…any _real _racer it doesn't matter if you win…" Brian tuned him out again, only paying attention and making a beeline for his car when he heard someone say "Cops" and saw everyone running. Once inside the car, he revved the engine and tried his best to get the hell out of dodge, using everything Rome had ever taught him about evading the cops because he seriously did not need to get caught by cops who had no idea what was going on and might somehow figured out that Brian Spilner was a fake.

Brian thought he was good to go in the alley or, at least, he had until he'd heard the sound of police sirens. He cursed his conscience when he spotted the lone figure, who he'd identified as Dom, running away from the sirens, knowing that he'd guilt himself to death if he didn't help. _'Why can't I be like a regular abused kid – closed off __**and**__ self-preserving,' _questioned Brian as he raced the car over to Dom, quickly pulled over next to him and ordered, "Get in!"

Unsurprisingly, Dom quickly followed his command and, once Dom had shut the door, Brian gunned the accelerator and put his driving skills to work, _'No such inspiration as the sound of approaching sirens.'_ Driving out the alleyway, Brian made a wide quick turn after he spotted a car, cutting of the first cruiser in its path, _'One down, a hell of a lot to go.'_ Spotting the next two cop cruisers, which were sort of in a two-sided box formation, Brian tried to think of something to do, _'Come on, O'Conner, time to put the 205 IQ to good use.'_

A wicked grin crossed Brian's face, as he saw the first cruiser turn and come to a stop in an attempt to setup a blockade with the other car standing behind it as back-up, and he formed a plan, _'This is gonna be __**awesome**__!' _His grin got wider when he saw the not-so-little speed bump up behind the cars and pressed down with his right foot, sending the car toward the cruisers before sharply turning to slide between the cars and over the speed bump, sending them into the air.

The inertia almost hit his head on the steering wheel when they landed fifteen feet away from where they'd been airborne, but Brian quickly regained his equilibrium and continue driving. He went straight keeping an eye out for cop cars, but turned to look at Dom, skillfully hiding his shock, when the man spoke, "You're the last person in the world I expected to show up."

'_Yeah,' _thought Brian, _'Amen to that.' _He looked back at Dom from the corner of his eye and realized that the big man was expecting a response and Brian had no idea what to say. After all, he couldn't exactly say, "Hey, man. Yeah, I know, but, what can I say, my conscience wouldn't let me leave you out there to get caught." _'Yeah, right. Like any racer would ever say that.'_ Apparently Brian had forgotten that he was a racer and that he would totally say that, that is if he wasn't on an undercover assignment of sorts.

And, since he couldn't think of anything else to say, he said, "Yeah, well, I thought that I in your good graces, you might let me keep my car."

Brian was surprised when he heard the man respond with a half-smile on his face, "You are in my good graces, but you ain't keepin' your car." And then in a more serious tone, "You drive like you've done this before. What are you a wheel man?"

"No," replied Brian in a monotone voice.

"You ever boost cars?" _'What is this: twenty questions?' _thought Brian, pushing aside the painful memories of Rome going to jail that arose at the words boost and cars together. Eyes blinking rapidly twice to stop the tears that were threatening to form in his eyes, Brian replied truthfully, "No, never."

"Ever done time?" Brian was really getting tired of these questions and he was starving, mostly because he hadn't eaten anything since lunch which was at twelve, and both of those things were liable to make him grumpy, but he came out the victor and flawlessly lied, "Couple of overnighters – no big deal." _'Yeah, right, like they'd send a minor to jail for street racing.' _

"What about the two years in juvie for boosting cars," asked the man, who'd obviously had a profile run on Brian Spilner – one that Tanner had told him to make as realistic as possible, _'Huh, I gotta listen to Tanner more often. Apparently, he knows what he's talking about.' _Pushing those thoughts aside, Brian played the startled, overconfident amateur to a T, brows furrowing just a little as he looked at Dom.

The thought _'I should totally become a freakin' actor,' _ran through Brian's head as Dom bought the act and explained how he knew the "truth", "Hah. Tucson, right. Yeah, I had Jesse run a profile on you, Brian Earl Spilner. He'll find anything on the web; anything about anybody. So why bullshit?"

Brian shrugged and questioned in return, "So, what about you?" Brian almost felt sorry about asking the question – _almost_ – when the man's face immediately turned somber and his eyes heavy as he was assaulted with memories that obviously still haunted him, but he knew he had to make the man open up to him, get him to trust him. He honestly didn't think the man would answer and his respect for him went up a few notches when he did, "Two years in Lompoc – I'll die before I go back."

Those words were said bluntly and Brian knew without a doubt that the man meant what he was saying with every fiber of his being and he barely restrained his body from shuddering as he thought about what could be so bad that you'd rather die than face it again. He couldn't exactly prevent it from escaping when he came upon some rather gruesome answers – ones he didn't wanna face and, therefore, didn't.

The mood was somber in the car and Brian didn't know what to say in order to break it, but luckily for him Dom did, "Oh, great!"

"What?" asked Brian, feeling confused as he tried to hear Dom over the sounds of roaring bikes. Brian looked up and felt his confusion fade little by little as he spotted the bikes surrounding them and then completely when he heard Dom say, "It's gonna be a long ass night, that's what."

Brian's first thought as he saw the Japanese guy next to his open window take out a gun, lay it on the inside of a door, and order, "Follow us," was, _'What the fudge is going on?'_

…TBC…

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad?

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


	10. Meet The Trans

Disclaimer: I own the Fast and the Furious and am rich…wait, that was a dream. My bad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hi, guys!! So wrote the Tran scene! Whatcha think? Cuz, you know, it's always rewritable. Anywho, hope you like the chapter, Love, Brownie  Please R&R.

**Our Son**

Chapter 10: Meet the Trans

"_Child abuse does not go away, but 90 percent of child abuse is preventable." Karen Adams_

As soon as they stopped at the isolated park near the T and K Food Market, Brian raced to get out of the car, an action, he noticed, that was mirrored by Dom, and ignored the bikers, as they took of their helmets. Instead he occupied himself with something more constructive, studying his surroundings and looking for something…anything that could maybe – hopefully – help him identify the bikers as being the ones who were hijacking the trucks.

His thoughts were pulled away from his search and he was forced to look up into the face of a stocky Chinese man wearing a black leather jacket, some sort of lizard-skin patterned leather pants, who was staring at him weirdly, oh and, did he forget to mention, holding a gun, when he heard the sound of a rifle being lifted and cocked. His attention them moved to a thinner, better-looking man, when he, as he walked toward the car and them, said, "I thought we had an agreement: you stay away, I stay away." He paused to study the car from the side, and then continued, "Everybody stays happy." Looking at the front of the car, he ultimately headed toward Dom, who, in an exasperated voice, explained, "We got lost, Johnny. What do you want me to tell you?"

"Who's we?" Johnny inquired in lieu of an explanation as his eyes flitted to Brian. The 16-year-old-in-disguise kept his cool, despite the electric gun that was being pointed at him, as Dom, with his hand pointing toward him, answered, "Um, my new mechanic.

"Brian, meet Johnny Tran," he nodded his head toward the skinny dude in the red leather jacket, who seemed to be in charge, then continued, "The guy in the snakeskin pants, that's his cousin, Lance." This information caused Brian's eyes to flitter to the guy holding the rifle, and he nearly fidgeted with the feelings of discomfort that assaulted him as the spiky-haired man kept staring at him with an unfathomable expression covering his face. He was grateful for the reprieve, when his attention moved back to Dom and Johnny, when Dom changed the subject, "So, when are you gonna give me a shot at that Honda 2000 of yours?"

Johnny ignored him in favor of addressing Brian, "This your ride?"

"It was. It's his now," he responded without a hitch, despite the pair of eyes that he could swear were burning a hole in the back of his head, a fact that made him unbelievably proud of himself, and inclined his head at Dom.

"No, it's not," countered Dom, confusing the hell out of Dom and causing his expressive eyes to give it away, "I haven't taken delivery."

Apparently that was what Tran was waiting for, as he, with an amused expression covering his face, ran his hand lovingly over the hood of the car and observed, "Then it's nobody's car, but somebody obviously put in the wrench time." His hand rubbing circles on the roof of the car, he turned toward his cousin and queried, "What do you think, Lance?" Then, for the first time since he'd first raised the gun, Brian felt the eyes move from him and barely restrained the sigh of relief that was intent on escaping and listened as the creeper remarked, "It's an amazing machine."

"Yes, indeed," agreed his cousin, sounding like he'd come to a decision, and Brian felt like they'd gotten off too easy, when all Tran did was slap Dom's arm twice and declare, "Let's go." He stared uneasily as Tran got on the bike with Lance copying his actions and asserting, "I'll see you in the desert next month. Be ready to have you ass handed to you."

Scratching the back of his neck, what Brian knew to be an invariable act of unease, Dom retorted, "You're gonna need more than that crotch rocket."

"I got something for you," declared Tran as he slipped on his helmet and what Brian assumed was his girlfriend sat behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Then, he revved the engine and roared off into the night with the rest of the gang following his lead.

"What the hell was that all about," questioned Brian, feeling more like himself and more at ease now that Lance was gone.

"Long story, I'll tell you later," said Dom as he opened the door, "Let's get outta here." They were both halfway in the car, when they heard the sounds of roaring engines return, and quickly pulled out, shutting the door when Tran and Lance came to a stop.

He flinched at the sound of the first bullet, then ran without abandon or shame in the other direction when the gunshots started raining down on the car, thinking, _'Holy sh...ugarmuffins.'_

Once he'd deemed that he was far away, he came to a stop, watched the windows crash to the ground, and the tires slowly go flat. He was watching the car droop to the ground so avidly, that he didn't even notice the Trans leave. Then, when the car started to catch fire, he didn't move, just fixated on the flames and was soon lost in the past.

**************************************************************

_Approximately five and a half years ago, Pasadena, California_

_Ten-year-old Brian O' Conner tiptoed down the curved, wooden staircase of his foster parents' home, avoiding the rickety step at the bottom that always creaked. Standing on the second-to-last step, he held on to the railing, which caused his wrist to throb, and leaned forward so that he could look both ways. After a quick look in both directions, Brian, who was now satisfied that no one else was downstairs, swung down using his grip on the railing and landed on the floor with a 'thump.' _

_Holding his sprained, possibly broken wrist the little boy headed into the kitchen and, once there, made a beeline for the refrigerator. Opening it with the least amount of sound possible, the hungry kid grabbed the leftovers from the dinner that he hadn't been allowed to eat as punishment for "him" breaking his foster mother's favorite vase. Feeling ecstatic at the thought of finally eating after a day of starvation, he, since both his hands were occupied with , kicked the door shut, not noticing the loud sound that the action produced._

_After peeling off the saran wrap, Brian turned and dug through the dishwasher for a spoon. A smile came over his face and he internally raised a fist in victory, when he found one. He got up, shut the dishwasher, and then tried to turn. His smile vanished when he wasn't successful due to the hand that was now clamped on his shoulder. _

"_What do you think you're doing, you little bastard?" asked his foster father, Frank, rhetorically, and though Brian knew that, he still answered, "Nnn- nothing, Sir."_

"_What the fuck is your problem, you piece of shit," ranted Frank as he fisted Brian's dirt-matted hair and used the hold to drag him into the living room and, then toss him onto the carpet next to the fireplace. _

"_You know what," he continued, squatting down next to the fire and pulling out a cigar, causing Brian to think that he was talking to himself, "I don't care what your problem is, I'm just sick of it. First off, we invite you into our house…"_

"_Only cuz you wanted the money," interrupted Brian, feeling a burning pain in his stomach when the retard got up from his spot and kicked him for his "insolence."_

_Apparently feeling satisfied after the kick, Frank went back to his spot, lit the cigar, and continued, "take care of you…" Brian snorted, an act that Frank either ignored or didn't notice, "…feed you…"_

_At that ridiculous statement, Brian started cackling, "Hahaha, dang, dude, you should be a freakin' comedian cuz that's the funniest thing I've heard since watching Jeff Dunham's Achmed the Dead Terrorist."_

"_Feed me?" he remarked, his voice taking on a slight incredulous tone, "I can't remember the last thing I had to eat, my head hurts and it feels like there's a freakin' tornado running around in my stoma…" he trailed off when a fist made contact with his nose. The force of the punch pushed him backwards and caused the back of his head to crash into the wall. He blinked to clear the black spots from his vision, his head throbbing in sync with the beat of his heart. His vision now clear, he leaned his head against the wall and looked up at his foster father through his mop of hair, using the back of his right hand to wipe off the blood by his nose and, then, pinching the bridge of it to stem the blood flow. _

_The throbbing in his head increased tenfold and he was hit by Déjà vu, when Frank grabbed him by his hair and tossed him onto the floor. He moaned, curling up in a fetal position to protect himself from the kicks that always came, but screamed, "Aaah," when he felt a hot, white pain in his bare back cause by something round…cylindrical, maybe, instead._

_It went on for what seemed like forever and he felt nauseous when the smell of burning flesh – __**his**__ burning flesh – reached him and he used every ounce of will-power he had to not dry heave and cause himself further pain. When the pain finally ended, Brian opened his eyes and through his tears saw his weapon of torture aka Frank's cigar. He only had a second's notice: his foster father's maniacal grin, before he was once more attacked with the improvised, but efficient tool of torture. As he screamed anew, he heard a voice yell, "Nos," which caused him to wonder, __**'Who is that?'**_

**************************************************************

_Present Day_

Dom watched as the car caught and turned to catch Brian's reaction, but saw that he was lost, staring at the fire. He was pulled away from his thoughts of what Brian could possibly be thinking about at a moment like this by a flicker of blue fire on the hood of the car and, before he knew it, he was yelling, "Nos!" and feeling more worried than he'd ever before in his life.

When Brian didn't move, Dom felt the insane urge to run over to him, to protect him, but he with great difficulty squashed it down, knowing that it would have been a foolish action. "Bri!" he screamed for the second time in two seconds.

And felt great relief when he saw Brian jerk, "Run," he screamed at him, sighing when he got out of there just in the nick of time.

When the fireworks were over, Dom walked over to Brian and they started the long journey in silence. That is, until Brian asked, "So, what the hell was that all about?"

"It's a long story," repeated Dom, as they kept walking.

"Well," observed Brian, "we got a twenty mile hike. Humor me." _'Cuz I could use all the help I can get to forget the weirdness that was Lance Tran._

Dom answered his question "A business deal that went sour. Plus I made the mistake of sleeping with his sister."

…TBC…

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad?

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


	11. At the Door

Disclaimer: I own the Fast and the Furious and am rich…wait, that was a dream. My bad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hey, Guys, long time no see! That's my fault, I guess, but White Collar and Matt Bomer's smexiness has kidnapped my muse, but Muse fought and is now free. Seriously, watch the show if you haven't already, if not for the show's awesomeness, then Matt Bomer's smexiness. Anywho, hope you like the chapter, Love, Brownie

**Our Son**

Chapter 11: At the Door

"_I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection." Sigmund Freud_

"No way, Man," laughed Brian with his head thrown back as he walked step-in-step with Dom, "I don't believe you."

His own smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, Dom replied in a mock-affronted tone, "What? You don't think I could do it?"

His sapphire eyes twinkling, Brian, who was facing away from Dom and looking out into the road, opened his mouth to retort, then suddenly snapped it shut, jumped off the curb and onto the road with his arm held out. It took Dom, who'd stopped and turned when Brian hadn't made a smart-ass comment, a second to figure out what Brian was trying to do and another second to spot the cab that was making a beeline for Brian, who, in his excitement, had jumped a little too far into the road. In the three seconds it took Dom to get to the stupid kid, his heart started racing a little too fast for his liking, his palms got sweaty, and his mouth got so dry that he couldn't even open it to warn the idiot.

Next thing he knew, he was standing next to Brian and hauling him back onto the sidewalk and it was only then that he identified what he was feeling: worry. But if didn't take long, after he'd made sure there wasn't a scratch on the kid, for his worry to turn into anger, a feeling which had always been easy for him to express. So it was then, after he'd convinced himself that the kid was standing in front of him in one piece, staring at him with a befuddled expression instead of lying across the pavement covered in splatters of his own blood, that he ranted, "Do you have a death wish?"

He ignored the feeling that he was acting like an overprotective dad with a reckless son when Brian answered with an upraised, quizzical eyebrow and, "No?" He paused for a second, then hesitatingly asked, "Um…Can you let go of my arm now?" That was when Dom noticed that he still had a vice-like grip on Brian's right arm, the one he'd used to yank him onto the sidewalk, and he let go of it as if burned, then watched as Brian brought up his left arm to rub away the redness that it had left. Dom wanted to say something, but the words, '_I'm sorry_,' just didn't feel like they'd be enough for what he'd just done: he'd basically just hurt a kid.

They stood there enveloped in an awkward silence until they were both jolted out of their respective thoughts by a blaring horn and the sound of someone yelling, "Hey, you lovebirds wanna hurry it up? I do have a family to get to, ya' know

They both turned toward the source of the sound and saw the cab driver yelling from a rolled-down window as he honked the horn once more, "Sometime this century please!" Brian shrugged, he was tired from walking for what seemed like forever, then walked over to the cab and climbed into the backseat. Stretching out his legs, he got himself comfortable, _Man, I'm so stretching before I decide to walk for so long ever again. This crap hurts more than running five miles without stopping_. He waited for a second and, then, when it didn't seem like Dom was going to join him, opened his mouth to tell the driver that it was just him, when the driver beat him to it by asking, "Where to?"

Brian recalled Brian Spilner's address and made to tell it to the cabbie, when he was interrupted by the sound of the passenger door opening and Dom rattling off an address as he made himself comfortable. Once he was situated, Dom shut the door and the driver started to pull out, looking back to make sure that no car was coming and running his eyes disapprovingly over Brian as he did so. Brian wondered what he'd done and waited for the cabbie to address him, but instead of addressing him as he'd expected, he told Dom, "Can you tell your kid to buckle up back there?"

Brian wanted to retort that he wasn't a kid and that he especially wasn't _Dom's _kid, but Dom beat him to it, or so Brian thought. "He's not…," Dom started, then, thinking better of it, turned his head so that he could look at Brian from the corner of his eyes, and said, "You heard the man, buckle up." Puzzled due to Dom not correcting the driver's assumptions, even though he had no idea why the cabbie would think he was Dom's son, _Hello? We look nothing alike_, Brian slipped on his belt and felt like whooping in delight when the car finally started moving.

Slumping into his seat, Brian stared at the sights as they passed by them and was soon lost in his thoughts.The thought that was foremost on his mind wasn't Dom's odd behavior, even though that was nagging at the back of his mind, but what the FBI actually wanted him to do. Did they want him to give them something against the Toretto gang or find incriminating evidence against whoever was behind the hijacking because Brian was having doubts about those two achieving the same goal. It was mostly due to what Dom had told him about the Trans and what he, himself, had seen firsthand. Obviously, the guys were rich, if their clothes were anything to go by, _Seriously, who wears snakeskin?_, but they were still looking for thrills. They fit the persona necessary for the hijackings to a T and Brian was unsure as to what his next move should be. The cab slowed to a stop, effectively ending his train of thought, just as he came to the decision of simply hitting the sack today and asking Tanner about the details of his undercover job tomorrow.

He opened his door and, after getting out, saw that Dom was already in the process of paying the cabbie. He let Dom finish, using the time to dig his wallet out of his back pocket. After the cab had left and they started walking, this time to the sidewalk, Brian played with the in his wallet and asked, "So, how much was the fare? I'll half it."

He made to pull some cash out, but Dom just looked at him, "Nah, just consider us even."

"All right," agreed Brian, shrugging his shoulder, _Even?_, "If you're sure." Dom didn't bother to reply, instead they walked in companionable silence until they hit the sidewalk. Once they did, Brian said, "Take care," to Dom and turned, intending to walk the mile to Spilner's…his place in silence and then hit the hay, while Dom headed toward the house in front of him.

He was about to bring his hand up to his eyes to rub the sleepiness out of them when he heard Dom call, "Yo, Spilner." It was only because he had a job to do that Brian turned to face Dom, who was standing between a wall and a pillar with a hand resting on each. That is until he moved the hand that was resting on the pillar to point toward the door with his thumb, "You want a beer?" Now, Brian usually didn't go to after-race parties even when he was the winner for two reasons: one, he was underage and due to his life experience had no desire whatsoever to get drunk, and two, he crashed after every race because he had no energy and it was worse today because he'd been jerked awake by Harry and stuff like that totally screwed up his internal clock.

But he said, "Yeah, sure," anyway because he really wanted to see his brother _outside_ of prison and for once without bruises that were so dark that they could be seen on Rome's extremely dark skin. Dom just nodded and, then, went in once he saw Brian start walking toward the house. He stopped at the door and readied himself to go in, frowning at the sounds of yelling and breaking glass that he heard underneath the pulsing music. He released a breath, "Come on, O' Conner, quit being a wimp. You can do this, piece of cake," and then grasped the doorknob and twisted it.

…TBC…

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad?

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


	12. Drink

Disclaimer: I own the Fast and the Furious and am rich…wait, that was a dream. My bad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hey, Guys, this is a faster update than usual because I haven't had anything to do since I moved to Texas and it has taken four days for the internet to finally be set up!! Woohoo, I have internet once more!!!Thank God, I have no idea how people lived before they had internet, thank you, Dad!!Anywho, hope you like the chapter, Love, Brownie

**Our Son**

Chapter 12: Drink

""_you know someone If who tries to drown their sorrows, you might tell them sorrows know how to swim." Quoted in __P.S. I Love You_

Pulling the door open, Brian entered and, then, ignored every good instinct that was telling him to turn tail and shut the door behind himself; after all he had a brother to get out of prison. He shut the door behind himself and slowly weaved his way through the drunk crowd, spotting Dom immediately in the corner engaged in, what seemed to be, a particularly heated argument. Brian almost sighed in relief when Dom turned away from Letty, _Thank God; catastrophe averted_, and barely refrained from laughing at the expression on Letty's face. He didn't have to restrain himself for long because as soon as Dom started walking, Vince looked at him and spotted Brian in the background.

Brian couldn't help, but think that the vein pulsing on Vince's forehead was in danger of popping, when he turned to Dom and growled, "Yo, Dom, why'd you bring the buster here?"

Dom didn't even blink, he just turned around and growled right back, his domineering personality giving Vince no room to fight back, "Cuz the buster kept me out of handcuffs! He didn't just run back to the fort!" He lowered his voice to normal decibels, "The buster brought _me_ back," then turned back around and made a beeline for Brian. Holding out a beer in each hand in a way that would be inviting for most people, but wasn't for Brian, he announced, "You can have any brew you want, as long as it's a Corona."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ Brian didn't even _try_ to refrain from cussing and tried to think straight in the…ah….three to five seconds he had to decide on the course of action that he was going to take. He could either accept: moving a step farther in his mission and going against all his principles, or no: more than likely killing any chances he had of gaining Dom's trust because he obviously had a thing for Corona.

In the end, it wasn't even a decision: there was only one option, "Thanks, Man," said Brian as he used his left hand to accept the Corona in Dom's right.

"That's Vince's," Dom pointed at the beer bottle that was now in Brian's hand, "So enjoy it." With that he turned toward Vince and Brian, who'd figured out Dom's motivation for offering him a beer, mimicked the movement to see Vince, who had an incredulous, but hurt look on his face, disbelievingly point at Brian and emphasize, "You?..." before trailing off.

Brian kept himself from cussing up a storm, he'd been trying to stop thank you very much, and played the part of the nonchalant surfer-boy to the T, pulling up the corner of his shirt and using it to wipe off the top of the Corona. Now came the part that had him and his conscience up in knots, he'd promised himself a while back, back when most kids are too young to know what their parents are chugging out of a glass bottle, that he'd never go near, much less touch or drink, any type of alcohol, and now he was about to majorly break that covenant. But he lifted the bottle up to his lips, wrapped them around the round top, and, looking at Vince, tipped the bottle up, killing a piece of himself that he'd preserved throughout his trying lifetime as he did so.

He worked his throat muscles excessively as the foul liquid traveled down his throat, trying to control his gag reflex because this had to be the worst thing he'd ever drank – and he'd drunk _prune juice_ – but it probably wouldn't make a very good impression if he threw up. He lowered the bottle, ignoring Vince's reaction to his previous actions, and addressed Dom, "Hey, Bro, you got a bathroom?"

Dom didn't even turn and look at him, instead he continued staring at Vince challengingly and answered, "Yeah, upstairs: first door on the right." Brian turned and hightailed it up the stairs, feeling the bile try to make its way up his throat, and into the bathroom. He placed the bottle precariously on the side of the sink and, swallowing heavily and repetitively, pushed the door shut, fumbling around for the lock until he found it.

Then he stumbled back to the sink, framing his wet hands on the sides, sweaty head bent over the sink and let go. He tried to ignore the memories this brought back knowing that they would only make the situation worse, but failed, then grimaced as more bile made its way up. It only got worse after he'd lost everything he'd eaten: a PB and J, and he started dry heaving, feeling the burning in his lungs that had started when the beer had made its way down increase threefold. It was a while before he was done and, once he was, he turned the tap water on, letting it drain away the result of his actions. Once the sink was clear, he stuck his hand out to test the water and, finding it cold, stuck his head in the sink, then tilted it up so that he could take a drink.

He let the cold water cool him down a little, then, moving his head back, framed his hands together to form a cup. He, then, placed them under the flow of water and, when they contained sufficient water, splashed said water onto his heated face. Once his face was feeling close to normal, he repeated the procedure with his hair, running his fingers through his hair to spread it and move his hair off of his face. Then, he went back to his original position at the sink: one hand framed on each side of the sink and looked up at the mirror to stare at his reflection.

He looked the same, but he sure as heck didn't feel it. He took in his features recalling these same features in the same position at various times in his sixteen years of life. At five, horrified, but fascinated by the flow of blood originating from his palm as he tried to stop and wash it out with water. At eight, afraid, but determinedly creeping closer to the prone figure of his foster father, Anthony, to take a look at the reason of his unplanned rest, which was lying in his limp hand, eyes flittering repetitively to Anthony to make sure he wasn't about to wake up even as he doggedly ignored his distorted black and blue reflection on the crisp white bottle and read the label, "Smirnoff Vodka**.**"

At twelve, staring at his reflection in passing, the red-speckled shirt, the myriad of bruises covering his arms and face and picturing the ones scattered painfully across his torso, wondering how people could ignore what was right in front of them. Shaking his head to get it out of the past, Brian rinsed his mouth once more, then, after releasing a long breath, grabbed the abandoned bottle of beer and tipped it over the counter and emptied it more than halfway. Deeming himself ready, he righted the bottle and, opening the door, made his way down the stairs, stopping to make room for Dom and Letty when they met him on their way up.

"Yo," Dom's voice had him turning before his feet even touched the floor, "You know you owe me a ten second car, right?"

Brian just stared at Dom blankly, his mind going through the various ways he could play out that scenario, and it was then, with Dom's arm wrapped around her, that Brian spotted the first genuine smile he'd seen on Letty's face. "Ouch," she laughed, then continuing on her way up with Dom, "Oh, shit."

It was then, when he saw Leon and Vince making a beeline for him, that he realized that he'd been left to the wolves, but that had happened plenty of times before and Brian knew how to deal with it.

"Did you wipe the seat?" asked Vince callously with Leon and Vince backing him up and other people around to help if he needed them to. Brian saw the gun, but self preservation wasn't a strong-suit of his, so he opened his mouth to make a smartass comment like _why do you have herpes? _, but was stopped by Mia, who charged in yelling. "Oh Jesus Christ, would you cut this shit already?" she grabbing Vince by the arm and then shoved him away. "Come on!" she yelled, walking over to stand in front of Brian as if protecting him.

"Come on, let's go get me a drink," she addressed Brian while looking at Vince, and simultaneously they turned and walked toward the kitchen to Vince's glares, and Leon and Jesse's, respective ,comments of "Aw, come on, Man. We were just about to get along," and "Yeah."

A genuine grin covering his face – apparently Torettos had that effect on him – Brian followed Mia into the kitchen and asked, "So, what do you want?"

"Oh, anything, as long as it's cold."

Brian grabbed a Snapple and was about to pop the cover when Mia observed "You know, my brother likes you; he usually doesn't like anybody."

He recovered quickly from his surprise and, popping off the top, made his way toward Mia, "Yeah, he's a complicated guy."

"Yeah? What about you?"

Stopping in front of Mia, he waited for her to accept the proffered drink, and then answered, "I'm simpler."

"You're a shitty liar," commented Mia before taking a sip of her cold drink.

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," Brian moved so that he too was leaning against the dresser and, placing his arm on the top of it to brace himself, allowed himself to slump down.

"There's a problem," informed Mia, confusing Brian.

"What's that?"

"You need to sleep and you definitely, definitely need a shower."

Brian was confused as to where she was going with this: was she trying to flirt or just saying, and it showed on his face before he covered it up with a weak smile. The smile turned more genuine when Mia tugged on the front of his cheap t-shit and ordered more than said, "Come on, I'll take you home." Glad that she hadn't been trying to flirt, he glared disdainfully at the bottle of Corona that was discarded on top of the cooler, and then obediently followed her out the room and then the house.

…TBC…

So what do you guys think? Good? Bad?

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


	13. Belief

Disclaimer: I own the Fast and the Furious and am rich…wait, that was a dream. My bad.

**Warnings**: This is an AU story. Brian is sixteen years old (he graduated high school at 12) and Dom and Letty's son. The story line starts as the same.

Hey, Guys. I know, I know, long time no see. Not my fault – well, sort of. I had to move, get settled in, work, start writing some original fiction, but y'alls reviews spurred me to keep on going. Thanks for sticking with the story. Anywho, hope you like the chapter, Love, Brownie

**Our Son**

Chapter 13: Belief

_"__For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible." Stuart Chase_

Exhausted, Brian navigated Harry's truck through the crowded streets of L.A. He turned right on the green light, wishing that he had declined Dom's offer for a drink. It took him a second to hear the sirens following him and, glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw that it was a black car that was following him. Hoping it was the feds, so that Tanner could get him out of whatever trouble he was in, Brian pulled over.

A voice rang out through a megaphone and Brian sighed in relief, but that relief vanished when he actually comprehended the words that were being spoken, "Show me your hands." Shit, thought Brian, following the instruction regardless. I don't even know what I did. "Very good," continued Tanner, "Now open the door." Brian did as he was told.

"Put your hands on your head – behind your head." Brian bent his hands at the elbows and interlocked his fingers behind his head, alarmed, but not showing it. "Face the front of the vehicle." Brian didn't move, he was already doing that, so announcing that was redundant, "And walk towards the rear." Brian obliged. "Take two steps to your right." Brian did as he was told, feeling like he was doing the Cha-Cha slide or something equally stupid. "Stop right there!"

Immediately, he heard someone approaching him and, then, there was a hand restraining his arms from moving and another feeling along his body searchingly – Brian had to fight every instinct that was telling him that he was in danger, to fight, but he was successful. "What did I do?" he asked as hands kept patting him down, but, it wasn't the person behind him, but Tanner who answered.

"Shut up," he snapped, looking at the person behind him, who answered, "He's clean, Sarge." Brian immediately recognized the voice as Muse, but before he could say anything he heard the sound of clinking metal and then his hands were being yanked down and cuffs were being secured around them. Brian was panicking, trying to figure out what he'd done, while trying not to show his worry. He was loaded into the back of the car and it wasn't until Muse let the screen in the middle down and started talking to him that he realized that he wasn't really in trouble and that the "arrest" was all for show.

With the exception of the time he'd spent talking with Mia last night, Brian told theme everything that had happened, when they inquired. Before long, they were pulling into the parking area of a beautiful, big house. Tanner opened his door for him. "Damn," muttered Brian as he tried to gain the leverage to push himself up with his hands bound behind his back. Once up he made a beeline for Muse, "Muse, will you take these things off?" He turned his back towards the man, pushing his hands out expectantly, "I mean – shit! – you put 'em on so tight!"

"I like realism," rejoined Muse with a grin causing Brian to look at him over his shoulder and sarcastically mimic, "You like realism."

Grinning, Tanner walked ahead of them to the door, "You never know who's watching, Brian." He pushed past the doors and, once Muse got the cuffs off of him, Brian followed, rubbing his bruised wrists. They walked across the bridge and Brian looked around, "Wow. Nice crib, Sergeant. It's a lot nicer than that last place you confiscated." And, it really was. Brian still remembered the decrepit building. It had been enveloped in the most fowl scent he'd ever experienced; he heartily approved of the change.

"Ain't it?" he replied, turning halfway towards him and Muse and slowing down, "You know, Eddie Fisher built this house for Elizabeth Taylor in the fifties." The continued walking towards the glass door and half-turning to Muse, looking at Tanner at the same time, Brian commented, "You see, even the cops are Hollywood in Hollywood." Tanner chuckled a bark of a laugh, held the door open for him and Muse and, then, followed them inside.

Once inside, they descended the stairs, once again with Tanner in the lead somehow. "Okay, here he is," announced Tanner, introducing Brian to everyone gathered in the living room who didn't already know him, "Fresh from Toretto's hot rod heaven."

Predictably, Bilkins was on his case the moment he saw him, "That was an eighty thousand dollar vehicle, Officer." If he wasn't so pissed off at the mere sight of Bilkins, Brian might've laughed at the fact that someone had just referred to him as _officer_. His blonde head flitted over to Tanner's, "Wait a minute. You tell him what happened?"

"He knows what happened." His anger flew up another notch and he turned towards Bilkins. "Hey, you know what? Send the bill to Johnny Tran."

"Brian," Tanner warned, but Brian paid him no heed.

His own face set in a frown, Bilkins walked towards them, "The kid's giving me attitude?" He looked Tanner in the eyes, "That doesn't work very well for Police-F.B.I. relations, Tanner." Brian had a feeling that Bilkins was threatening him and he would've given anything to be able to punch the dude's lights out without having to go to juvie or maybe even jail for it.

Brian turned towards Tanner, the only person besides Muse in this godforsaken place who actually listened to him. "Tanner, come on. What is this? I walk in the door and the guy's already given me crap –"

"–All right, all right," soothed Tanner, placing his hand gently on Brian's back, "We'll talk, okay? Let's talk about it." And, despite being determined not to let the man's technique work on him, Brian quieted.

"Muse," Tanner turned towards the man he was addressing, "Why don't you make us four iced cappuccinos, please." That said, he turned back to Brian and slapping a hand on his upper arms, guided, "Come on."

"Regular or decaf, Sarge?" inquired Bilkins from his seat and, looking over his shoulder at him, Tanner glanced at Brian – a kid – and answered, "Uh, decaf, I think." Brian, who had kept walking without Tanner, scoffed at this: he was sixteen, he'd had coffee before.

About five minutes later, they – he and Tanner – were sitting around a round table and Tanner was pacing in front of them – apparently that was all he ever did, well that and being a total asshole. Muse handed Brian his cappuccino and, as Bilkins started debriefing them, Brian sipped at it. "Four hijackings in two months and we don't have anything. DVD players and digital cameras alone are worth a million-two." He placed his mug down on a mahogany desk, "Which brings the total to six million plus." Brian put away his mug and his eyes moved to Tanner when he started speaking.

"We're in the political crosshairs now, Brian. That's why you're undercover." Bilkins moved so that he was walking behind Brian, "You want that brother of yours out fast, Kid. And, you want to know something?" His fat hand plopped down on Brian's shoulder and Brian barely kept himself from shrugging it off, "The F.B.I can help, if you come through for us."

Brian pushed everything the man had said to the back of his mind, where he stored memories he never wanted to visit again. "What does the truck driver say?"

Tanner answered his query. "He gave us the same M.O.," Brian flipped through his head for the word and it appeared in his brain, as if it were a photograph: modus operandi – method. He pulled himself out of his head when Tanner continued, "Three Honda Civics, precision driving, the same neon glow from under the chassis. Lab says the skid marks came back the same: Mashamoto ZX tires. So, we know that it's somebody in the street-racing world."

Bilkins took charge once more, "We don't make this case soon, the truckers will take matters into their own hands." He walked towards Brian, "I tell 'em we're close." He sat down on the table and looked Brian straight in his azure eyes, "You gonna make me a liar?" And, for the first time, Brian felt something akin to respect for the guy and, not knowing how to respond to his question, he pushed himself up and changed the subject.

"Look. What do we know? We all know this world revolves around Toretto, right?" He looked at both older men imploringly. "Now, I'm not saying that he's necessarily the one that's popping these trucks, but, I can guarantee the both of you, he knows who is. It's just a matter of time until I win his confi–"

Bilkins rose. "–You want time? Buy the magazine." He walked back around to the desk where his mug lay. "We don't have time," he said as he sank into a cushy chair, "Just get me something I can use." And, with that the meeting was over, and Tanner led Brian back outside, then started talking when they were alone outside.

"Is Harry cooperating?" he inquired as they walked back the way they had come.

"Yeah, like a guy who's gonna do three to five for receiving stolen property if he doesn't."

"What kind of vibe is he getting from Toretto?"

They stepped onto the curved bridge, "He's scared to death of him, but he doesn't think he's jacking trucks in his spare time, either; he's too controlled for that."

Tanner stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and steered him around so that he was facing him. "Wait," he said, running his hand tiredly through his golden-brown hair, "Not that I want to contradict Harry's fine judge of character, but, uh, Toretto did hard time for nearly beating a guy to death. He's got nitrous oxide in his blood and a gas tank for a brain. Do not turn your back on him – period."

He started walking, but Brian stopped him by gripping his upper arm and calling, "Hey, Tanner." He dropped his hand and walked past him, "I'm gonna need another car." Brian didn't want to believe it, so, he left.

…TBC…

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Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


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